


in the summer i forget how much i love her

by Solanaceae



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 03:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: The yearly arrival of winter in Beleriand.





	in the summer i forget how much i love her

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Narya (Narya_Flame)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narya_Flame/pseuds/Narya) in the [sll_winter2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sll_winter2018) collection. 



> Prompt was "Uinen/OFC Maia of Ice and Snow"! Written for the SilmLadyLove Winter Prompt Fest :)

Uinen feels her approach as a cold tingle at the edges of her awareness. 

She’s just northwest of where Beleriand’s southern coast curves inwards, floating a few miles offshore. It’s mid-autumn, or close to it, and the currents that twist their way through the sea at this time of year are cold, bringing water from the far-away Helcaraxë. She’s aware of it all—the ice cracking in the bitter north, the incoming tide lapping at the ankles of children playing along the coast of Falas, the heavy feeling of silt being emptied into the ocean by the River Sirion. Strands of her hair woven through the water, touching the coastlines of Beleriand and Valinor alike.

All this, vying for her attention, but what sparks her interest is that tingle, that sensation of water falling still, aligning, crystallizing. 

She withdraws from the colony of blue-gray crabs she had been observing. Her consciousness drifts, heads west and north. This call is familiar, though she has not felt it since last spring, when its source retreated to the far northern reaches of icy wasteland. 

_ Niquis _ , she says in a ripple of water, and feels an answering echo.

_ Uinen _ , the Maia says, amusement tingeing the sending. It’s less of a verbal message, and more of an impression—seaweed tangled in deep blue, calm water under a night sky.  

Niquis is a silhouette of cold against the vast expanse of the ocean, edged white with frost. She is pale as the snow she commands, skin a burnished sort of white that glimmers like sun through winter clouds. The closer Uinen gets to her, the more she can feel the chemistry of her own body changing, turning solid and crystalline when Niquis reaches out and brushes a finger along Uinen’s cheek, leaving a long, silver mark of ice.

They speak without words. Even as Niquis’ touch freezes over the water of Uinen’s body, Uinen’s waves lick apart Niquis’ ice. Their joining is is a flowering of water and cold, snowflakes spinning out from the wind of them. 

On the shores of Beleriand, the children lift laughing faces to the sky as snow begins to fall. 


End file.
